How 'About a Boy' Should Have Happened
by birdie7272
Summary: Dean is stuck living the teenage dream. Well, at least the Mark of Cain is gone and Team Free Will can figure out how keep the de-demonizing permanent. It's actually not that bad, right? Sure. Until Crowley finds out... (Ignore the title. I liked the episode but wanted more Cas)


"I'm so sorry," Tina apologized for the hundredth time from the passenger's seat of the Impala.

Dean knew he couldn't drive but he didn't get why she got to sit up front. Just because he still looked like a kid didn't mean he needed to be treated like one too.

"It's fine," Sam said for them as he pulled up to her house.

Tina still looked upset about it, even though- alright, yeah, okay, it kinda was her fault.

Sam and Dean managed to get her younger-self untied and she helped them burn the witch and stop Hansel after she squeezed those flowers and made herself old(er) again. Only thing was, she was supposed to throw it to Dean so he could man back up… not to miss and throw it into the fire.

Even so, Dean wasn't complaining. Much. The mark was gone. That's what mattered.

"You did me a favor," Dean explained –his voice only cracking a little- as they got out of the car. "Believe me."

"I still feel like I should be helping you," Tina turned to finish the conversation as the brothers leaned against the hood. Dean frowned at how it didn't sink down from his weight like it used to, but then again, maybe that was better for Baby.

"If anyone can figure out how to reverse the spell," Sam said, "-it's us. We'll figure it out."

Tina sighed but nodded, "Alright. Well… I guess all I can say is thank you then. For saving me and… well, for everyone you saved tonight. I've had a chance to look at myself and…maybe I should make a few changes. It's too late for me to start over but maybe I can try."

* * *

The ride to the bunker was a silent one. Until Sam started chuckling like a madman.

"What?!" Dean yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

"You are swimming in your clothes, dude."

Dean frowned at the outfit he changed into. His burned hoodie and jeans just weren't cutting it, but his oversized jacket and jeans really weren't much better. "Yeah, so?"

"So we need to go the mall."

Dean groaned. He hated the mall. There was the obvious reason that malls sucked but there was also an incident with a haunted _Bath and Body Works_ which resulted in him smelling like lilies for a month. Not exactly what he'd call a good time.

"Dammit," he grumbled.

It was the weekend and the mall was busy.

Dean glared at the people walking by as he hopped into the closest store with plaid on display. Sam followed him in and helped him pick out some stuff –making fun of him at every opportunity, including calling him 'short stuff' over and over.

After they had enough –of the clothes and each other- they went to grab some grub at the food court. Dean snagged a table and Sam went to pick up the burgers. That's when Dean noticed the girls he accidentally chose to sit next to.

They were all around 15, pretty, and smiling at him. He smiled back, waved awkwardly, and mentally screamed at his dick –reminding it that these girls were literally half his age. Little Dean didn't know the difference. The perv.

It was horrible.

Sam came back and had a similar expression of frustration. "If one more person calls me your dad I'm going to do that spell on myself. Seriously, how old do I look? I would have had to have you at like 16."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. Give me my food."

Sam handed him his big mac and tucked into his own salad. Why'd burger places even bother with salads? That shit just looked nasty.

"I had a thought," Sam said suddenly.

"Oookay," Dean drawled with his mouth full.

"You're like 14."

"Well not really but yeah."

"You are you at 14. As in, you don't have _the_ Mark or _any_ marks. As in, you don't have the anti-possession tattoo."

Dean nearly choked on the gulp of Coke he was inhaling and looked over his shoulders, expecting to see a demon standing right there. "Shit."

"What if Crowley finds out? I mean, what if he decides to stick a demon inside you and pumps you back to Mark of Cain age?"

"So, I'll just get another one."

"You're 14 and you actually look 14. Who's gonna give a 14 year old a tat?"

"There are people."

"What if we ask Cas?"

"Ugh, Sam. Unless you know something I don't, I'm pretty sure Cas doesn't know how to work the needle."

"No. I mean we ask Cas to bump you to 18 or something. I mean, I know it will cut some years off but we'll still have time to figure out how to get the mark off. And you'll be a little…" Sam rolled his shoulders and patted the air with his hands, "Bulkier."

"Hey," Dean looked at his arms. There was some muscle there! Not as much as normal but he wasn't that pathetic. "I was hunting at 14."

"Not the point. You're not fully matured."

Dean rocked his head in the most immature of ways, "What about his borrowed grace mojo? How much can he waste on me?"

"We gotta ask. Or do research at least. You'd be safer a little older."

"Whatever." Dean rolled his eyes but ended up glancing in the girls' direction. They all smiled again.

Maybe he had a point.

* * *

"What happened to Dean? His sigils are gone. Is he alright?"

"Calm down, Cas." Dean popped into the room as soon as he heard the angel running down the stairs and rambling like a worried momma bear. "I'm fine."

Sam raised a brow, "You could tell his sigils were gone? I didn't think of that."

"You're-" Cas blinked and looked to Sam, then back to Dean. "Dean. What happened?"

"I'm Benjamin Franklin!" Dean shouted.

"Benjamin Button." Sam and Cas corrected at the same time, causing everyone to stare at Cas in shock. They would never get used to him knowing things. It just wasn't right.

"Whatever," Dean said. "Witch bitch and her creepy boy toy cursed me."

"They're gone," Sam jumped in. "So is the hex bag they used."

"Can you reverse it?" Cas asked.

"We're not sure we want to."

Cas was about to question so Dean slid up one of his new sleeves and showed him his mark-free arm.

"It's gone," Cas said aloud.

"Which is great for me not being a crazy demon-"

"Not much difference between that and a pubescent teen," Sam scoffed.

Dean glared and continued, "But not so great for other stuff. We have time to figure out how to get the mark gone for good but kids have it rough man. No one takes a dude seriously when he has no facial hair."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Cas, "We were wondering if you could maybe help him out? Maybe age him by a few years? Even just a few will allow him to do things he can't now."

"Try a few more." Dean said with a shrug, "21 dude. I wanna be able to walk into a bar."

"You can walk into a bar at 18. You just can't drink."

"Exactly."

"But Dean-"

"The mark is gone Sammy! Who cares?"

"Fine." Sam turned to Cas, "I know this is asking a lot since your grace isn't really … well… we were just wondering if you could do anything to help. If not, we can figure something else out."

Cas took a prolonged pause where he studied Dean, staring and doing nothing more –as was his specialty. Finally, he nodded, "I can try."

* * *

"You look very… youthful. Your face is very round."

"Don't touch me, Cas."

Cas pulled his hand off Dean's cheek, "I need to in order to age you."

"Yeah, alright, whatever. Just… be careful. No making me look like Willem Dafoe." Or depleting his grace, but that was implied. "I don't wanna be an old man. Again."

Cas placed his fingers on Dean's temples and both closed their eyes. A light flashed and Dean felt a heat spread across his skin until he was tingly all over. He woke on his back a moment later, blinked through the daze, and saw an unconscious Cas lying next to him.

"Dean?" Sam rushed over and pulled him to a sitting position.

"I'm fine man," Dean pushed him away and gasped. His voice wasn't all high and crackly anymore. He looked to his hands and saw real hairs growing out of his knuckles. He jumped his hands to his face and touched around, poking at the deflated cheeks. When he jumped in front of the mirror he could see he had aged back to his almost-adult face of 21ish.

"We could've just gotten you a fake ID for 18."

"Whatever man," Dean shrugged him off as he continued to inspect the curve of his jaw. "Too late now. I still got my old one."

"I'm pretty sure all old ones have expired."

Dean decided to ignore Sam and his logic and went back to check on Cas. He was out like a light, unmoving but breathing.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Sam said. "You go get some rest."

"Rest? I feel like I could run a marathon."

"Growing boys need their rest, Dean."

Sam patted the top of his head until Dean bat him away. "Whatever. I'm gonna eat."

Growing boys needed food too.

A couple of sandwiches later, Cas woke up and stumbled in to snag one.

"You're eating?" Dean asked.

"Mph-" Cas agreed around his bite.

Dean's jaw clamped. "How much did I take out of you?"

"I will be fine. Perhaps in a day or two."

"Which means we have to keep an eye on him," Sam said.

"I do not require your surveillance," Cas assured him.

"I called a tattoo parlor in town," Sam ignored him and told Dean. "Their soonest opening is at 7 but that's when I'm going to Skype Charlie. She wanted to cross reference the books we have so she doesn't end up re-reading anything we already have."

"Might be better if she does," Dean said. "See something we missed."

"Either way you have an appointment with Hugo. And you should take Cas with you in case you run into any troubles."

"I don't know how much help I will be," Cas said as he licked his fingers.

Seven o'clock came and Dean sat in one of the back rooms with his shirt off, staring at his pecks and abs. Damn. He was always in shape but, man. Without all the added scars and marks and shit, he looked damn good. Not that he didn't in his normal body. Come on, he's Dean Winchester.

Hugo popped in just as he was inspecting his happy trial and he quickly sat back before the artist could see. Hugo just ignored him and brought over the drawing he did based on the description Sam gave over the phone.

Pentagram in a circle. Yup, it was fine. Whatever. It didn't need to be fancy. The sooner he did it the better because Dean wanted to get out and test his ability to drink without getting a hangover. Screw not drinking after getting a tat. He was 21. He could do anything.

"So," Hugo started the expected idle chatter as he prepped. "Are you another Satan worshiper or Wiccan or what?"

Dean kept his eye roll to a minimum –the guy was about to mark up his body after all. "You mean you've had more than one Satanist?"

"Well-" Hugo dug the needle into his skin and –shit- that stung. Actually he was pressing a bit too hard. Scratch that, way to hard. Dean hissed and looked at the flow of blood dripping down his side. "Something like that," Hugo looked up and his eyes flashed black.

Demon.

"Shit," Dean punched but he was at a disadvantage in their positions. He managed to make Hugo-the-demon jump enough to get out from under the needle, but that was it. "Cas!" Dean screamed, hoping Cas would be able to hear him in the waiting room.

In the meantime, he dogged Hugo coming at him with the needle by kicking him the gut and pushing off the side of the chair. His skinny body was able to slide out easy enough and he threw out another punch as Hugo lifted his hand and tossed Dean across the room.

Dean gasped as the invisible demon hands pushed against his chest and shoved him up the wall. Another scream to Cas was cut short as the demon locked onto his throat and threw his head back in the invisible choke hold.

Dean switched to mental screaming as he prayed for Cas' stupid ass to get in the next room and he cursed himself for being bested by this fat-ass demon. He made these kind of mistakes when he was a kid. He didn't make them anymore! The fact that he looked like a kid shouldn't have made any difference.

Hugo closed in and replaced the mojo with his actual hands as he opened his mouth.

Dean added a slew of curses in with those prayers. The dark smoke of the demon curled over the top of its tongue and Dean could see the end closing in. He leaned away and swiped at Hugo's arm but it was doing nothing. Just as the smoke was about to slip between his lips, a glowing hand jumped in and blocked its path.

Cas shined bright as he pushed the demon smoke back into Hugo and struck his angel blade into the man's gut. He fell and so did Dean, gasping for breath. Cas slid his arm under his shoulders for support and led him towards the door, angel blade at the ready.

"Let's go," Cas roughly prodded him through the exit, stepping over a few dead bodies along the way. Apparently Hugo wasn't the only demon. "There could be more."

"What the hell?" Dean cursed as soon as he was behind the wheel of his Baby, slamming on the gas. "How did Crowley find out?!"

"I don't know," Cas shook his head. "Why did you leave the bunker exposed? Did you not have the symbol drawn on you?"

"I don't know!" Dean yelled. "I didn't think of it! I was thinking about what bar we were going to hit up and if the chicks were too young and… whatever dude. Just- I didn't think of it, okay? What are you doing?!" Dean jumped at the feel of metal on his exposed torso, nearly swerving them off the road in the process.

Cas held the tip of his angel blade up, "I'm giving you the mark now."

"Jesus Christ, Cas! There's a pen in the glove compartment. No need to stab me!"

Cas didn't say anything, just rumbled through the glove box until he found the pen and drew the symbol on Dean's side.

It was confirmed. Cas was the worst tattoo artist ever.

"What the hell, Dean?!" Sam yelled as soon as they told him the news. "Now Crowley knows where we are! He's going to send tons of demons all around the area. We'll never be able to leave the bunker!"

"Oh my god, dude, chill!"

"Chill?! You're telling me to chill?!"

"Dean," Cas pleaded, looking like he was about to fall over from exhaustion. "Perhaps you should take this more seriously."

"I am taking it seriously," he argued as he rummaged through the fridge for leftovers. "I'm just eating too. It's called multitasking."

"Great." Sam huffed. "This is just great. Now what do we do? Cas can't zap us out of here and we can't go anywhere until we're sure we can get the Mark of Cain off you."

Dean shrugged, "Or we could fight our way out."

"Who knows how many demons are out there, Dean? Without the permanence of the tattoo you're useless. Even if we got you to your normal age you can't fight because of the Mark. Just- oh my god. I can't believe you were that irresponsible. It's like you're- well it's like you're you!"

"Yeah, okay! I get it! It's my fault. But we'll figure it out."

"I may know of a spell," Cas cut in before Sam could argue. "You may be able to use it to get passed the demons. I found it while researching the Mark of Cain. It should shroud you in-"

Dean rolled his eyes and stopped listening. He knew it was bad but not everyone needed to freak. After a night's rest, he'd think of something and-

The ring of his phone stopped everyone from arguing.

_666_

Dean spun it out to speaker and threw it on the table, "What do you want?"

"Hello to you too princess."

Freaking Crowley.

* * *

**AN:** If anyone wants to fix/continue this then go right ahead. I needed something to get out of my slump and this was it, but I'm not sure (don't think) I'll continue. I'll leave it open to others and myself.


End file.
